


Imbalance of Power

by Sid



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Roleplay, Slash, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid/pseuds/Sid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for kink_bingo, for the Roleplay square.</p><p>Just why does Peter want Neal to pretend to be a hooker? Besides the obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imbalance of Power

Peter's throat is dry and his palms are wet on the wheel as he drives to the intersection Neal texted. He's too nervous to be hard, because this is a million kinds of wrong. He ought to know. It's his fantasy, after all. He slides into the curb, one wary eye on the rearview mirror. A figure breaks away from the huddle of shadows against the darker shadow of a crumbling building, and saunters into the relative glare of the streetlight.

Slim-hipped, in black jeans that had to have been painted on. A small silver hoop gleaming from his right ear, above a mesh shirt that's a shade of turquoise that makes Neal's eyes pop. Peter stares into them, mesmerized, as Neal leans in at the passenger window. "Hello, handsome. Looking for a good time?"

"This is insane." Did he say that out loud? "Get in the car."

"We haven't discussed particulars yet. Are you sure you can afford my services?"

"Get in the damn car, Neal." Great. _Now_ he's hard. Right now, when he's sure a vice sting operation is going to swoop in any second. Neal's climbing in. Peter peels away from the curb as soon as Neal shuts the door.

"I don't have my seatbelt fastened. Safety first, you know."

"Shut up. Jesus." Peter still has one eye on his rearview mirror. He hears Neal's seatbelt click into place as he makes a left. Three blocks later he makes a right.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Peter makes another left and pulls into an alleyway, shutting off his headlights.

"You want to do it _here_?"

"Don't be an idiot," Peter is answering, when Neal's hand lands on his crotch, sending his voice into squeaking range. "I'm making sure we're not being followed."

Neal squeezes gently. "You're so paranoid! It's a new side of you."

"Have you looked at yourself in a mirror? Stupid question. My career will be dead if I'm caught with you looking that way."

Neal strokes Peter's bulge with his fingertips. "I think you like the way I look. By the way, I have a place we can go." He gives June's address. Of course.

"I sure hope she's not home," Peter says as he flicks on the headlights and rolls down the alleyway.

~~~~

"Is this where we discuss particulars?" Neal asks when Peter lifts his head. "Or would you rather slam me against the door a few more times?" His lips are slightly swollen and his voice is husky. He's wearing the lightest touch of mascara.

"Look at you," Peter growls.

Neal smiles. "You didn't give me anything to go on, so I'm glad I got it right."

Peter rubs Neal's nipple, which is poking out through the mesh of his shirt. "So far, so good."

Neal shivers a little. "It's your fantasy, handsome. Tell me what you want."

Peter opens his mouth, then closes it when he realizes nothing is going to come out.

"Don't be shy," Neal coaxes, a gleam in his eye. "I'm all yours. I'd say 'bought and paid for', but we haven't gotten that far yet. Or is that part of what you want? Did you bring cash?"

"Neal."

"I'm willing to negotiate a fair price. I'd almost do you for nothing. I don't get many johns like you." Neal strokes Peter's face.

Peter catches his hand. "We can skip all that."

"So it's not about the money." Neal cocks his head towards the bedroom, and Peter follows him. "Sit down."

Peter sits on the side of the bed and Neal sinks effortlessly to his knees. "Wait."

"I'm just taking your shoes off."

"Oh. Okay."

Neal unties Peter's left shoe and slips it off while running one hand up the back of his calf. "So what is this really about? What do you need to get out of it?"

Peter shakes his head.

"Is it about cheating on your wife?"

Peter is instantly affronted. "I do not cheat on El."

Neal sinks back on his heels and holds up both hands in appeasement. "Hey, I know. Any more than I have sex with strangers for money. I just thought you might be imagining it."

"Well, I'm not. I'm perfectly happy with my current arrangement."

"I apologize. I just want to make sure I make this as good for you as I can. So, the more I know…"

Peter exhales. "I don't think I could put it into words."

Neal bends his head and starts untying the other shoe. "I'd like it if you'd try. But we can keep going either way. I know fantasies can be messy." He peels off Peter's socks.

Peter finds that his fists are clenched. "You wouldn't like it," he says slowly.

Neal looks up. "It's specifically about me?"

"Our situation." Peter winces.

"My anklet. You having the power to throw me back in prison. Power, control… ownership?"

"I have that every day." Neal is staring up at him, wide-eyed, but it isn't the Neal he sees every day. That earring, the mascara, the outrageously sexy shirt. He could never do this to the Neal he sees every day. Peter swallows.

"But…you don't get off on it every day."

"It's wrong. I should never…"

"No," Neal interrupts. "Tonight it isn't wrong. Because you're just another john to me. It doesn't matter what's in your head, or who you want to pretend I am. You can do anything, you can ask me to do anything. No, tell me. There's no asking. You own me until you run out of money."

Peter's fists unclenched about halfway through that speech. "Shut up and unzip me."

Neal silently complies.

Peter holds his cock, points it at Neal's face. He rubs the tip against Neal's lips. They part. "That's right. Open up. You're going to suck it."

Neal opens up. Neal is sucking it.

Peter flips back the side of his jacket, revealing his holster. "See this?"

Neal's eyes get impossibly wide.

"I don't need money to own you. And I'm not just another john. Got that?" Neal makes a sound in his throat. It flutters along the length of Peter's cock and makes him gasp.

He feels eight feet tall, with a cock made of iron. He can force Neal Caffrey to his knees and make him whimper. He should've embraced this fantasy a long time ago.

Peter pulls his weapon and places it on the bed beside him, safety on and carefully pointed away, because he's not an idiot. "You're going to have to suck a lot harder than that." The sound that ripples along his cock this time is more of a moan than a whimper, and part of him registers that Neal is enjoying this. Tension that he hadn't realized he was feeling goes out of his shoulders. He runs his fingers through Neal's hair, closes his hand, and tugs. "I said, harder!"

Neal rises up off his heels and starts bobbing up and down frantically, twisting his head, swirling his tongue, applying suction. Every blow job he's given Peter up until now becomes lazy in retrospect.

Peter keeps a taut grip on Neal's hair and uses the thumb and forefinger of his other hand to trace the outline of Neal's wide-stretched lips against his cock. His own mouth is hanging open, his chest heaving. His balls are coming to a boil. "Thatta…boy," he manages to say before the world goes white.

The next thing he knows, he's flat on his back on the bed and Neal's saying, in a low and respectful tone, "I hope that was okay, mister."

Peter licks his lips. "Passable."

Neal chuckles in his ear. "Don't worry. I'm just getting started."

Peter sighs contentedly.


End file.
